


The Skills You Build

by AJofthe



Category: Entourage (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:35:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28946775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJofthe/pseuds/AJofthe
Summary: A different E joins the rest of the guys in LA after his old job comes to a close and it changes a few things.
Relationships: Vincent Chase/Eric Murphy
Kudos: 3





	The Skills You Build

**Author's Note:**

> Every few months I have the urge to read this fic (CW--Ari's language and a mention of Harvey: http://intimations.org/fanfic/entourage/Home.html) and after a recent re-read, I had the urge to write another version. Imagine Vince got mixed up in something when they were kids and E stepped up to run errands for some bad folks in his stead, changing their trajectories quite a bit.
> 
> CW: Ari's mouth

Two men stood silently over the body of another. 

“I’m goin’ to LA,” the blonde one mused thoughtfully after a moment. He struck a match and lit a cigarette. “I miss Vince.” 

The other man nodded after a moment and leaned over to light his cigarette off the same match. “Then I won’t have to fuck you,” he purred and they exchanged smirks. Then a brief, nostalgic kiss. 

As they walked out of the room, moonlight caught on the blonde head in the lead. 

A group of men were waiting quietly outside and all straightened as the blonde stepped to the side. 

He bowed slightly as the taller man entered the alleyway. “Boss.” He said and the rest of the men relaxed, all bowing in respect to the new Head of the Family. 

  
  
  


Ari glanced at Turtle, who shifted uneasily. Vince was outside, eagerly chatting away on his phone with someone he clearly thought was more important than his career.

“Who the fuck is E?” Ari asked, keeping his voice low and menacing. 

“Old friend from back home. We go way back,” Turtle said and shrugged and Ari rose, stalking over to plant his fist on either armrest of the tub of lard’s chair. 

“That, you fucking fat fuck, is clear. What I mean is what the fuck does Vinny mean, ‘You can be my manager’? I thought you were his fucking manager!” 

Turtle cowered and Ari remembered why he liked having the little fucker as his up-and-comer’s manager. Wave a few hundreds or pair of fancy shoes and he would say exactly what Ari wanted him to.

“Turtle! He’s coming!” Vince almost yelled, grinning in the way that made everyone want to fuck him and he almost lifted Ari off the ground as he scooped him up in a hug. 

Turtle rose and slapped him on the back. “That’s great, man! E’s coming out here?”

Vince nodded, still smiling, and threw himself back into one of the comfortable chairs. “And since you bitched at him so much about being my manager, he said that he can handle the business stuff now, so all you have to worry about is planning parties and knowing shit.” 

Ari spread his hands. “Vinny, my boy! You can’t just switch out management like that! It’s a bit more complicated than just a management take over. Turtle knows people, knows how to work this town,” he tried to keep the pleading out of his voice. 

Vince’s expression never changed, but he did bounce out of his chair. “Oh, don’t worry! E’s connected. It’ll all be good. Damn! He’s finally coming!” Vince did a little dance and waltzed out of the room with a casual “later, got to get the house ready.” 

Ari’s eyes leveled at Turtle. “Talk, Free Willy!” he ordered and Turtle shook his head.

“Vin said it. E’s connected. I ain’t saying shit," he snapped and chased after Vince and Ari screamed for a moment before settling into his chair and buzzing Emily. 

“Get me everything you can on someone who Vince went to high school with named E,” he demanded. There was a pause on the line. 

“‘E’ the letter?” she asked and Ari wondered why the fuck he had hired her.

  
  
  


By the morning of the first lunch meeting with Eric Murphy, the only thing Emily had found out was his full name and that his mother owned a very nice apartment complex where she and Vince’s mother both lived. Some weird quirk meant that Vince’s mother owned her unit as a condo. 

Ari was walking into the Ivy when Emily called again and she sounded panicked. “Ari, he’s on the Post’s list of top ten mafia leaders in New York City!” She squeaked and Ari laughed. 

“Stop wasting my time, cupcake,” he spat and glared at the hostess, who was chatting with a short blonde in a nice suit. 

She looked up and smiled. “Mr. Gold,” she said and the man turned around, his shoes moving with a complete lack of sound. He looked amused and somehow made the suit look more casual than it should. It was clearly custom. 

“The famous Mr. Gold,” he offered, both complementary and mocking at the same time in a way that made Ari really want to slug him. Extending one hand and smirking as if he knew exactly what Ari was thinking, the blonde introduced himself. “Eric Murphy.” 

Ari hesitated for only a mental moment before clasping it. 

“Oh! That’s nice, just walk off like that you mother-fucker!” Drama’s annoying voice caught their attention and Ari dropped the firm grip. Clearly, the shoulders on that suit didn’t need any padding. 

Vince was grinning and he waltzed over to drape an arm around E’s shoulders, looking back at the hostess. “You took good care of my friend, right, Sammy?” he asked and she blushed and giggled as she nodded. 

“She was a doll, V,” E said, glancing back with a grin and the girl seemed about ready to faint from the attention from them both. 

Ari wasn’t sure what he thought about this development. 

  
  
  


Emily tried not to act any different when she met Eric and it helped that he was a short, stocky guy that wore classy suits and chatted with her about old Hollywood (they were both big fans) and the modernist art (he hated it, but knew more than she did about it). 

Then a few months in, she saw the other side. 

“No.” The tone was chilling. Ari stopped in mid rant, a miracle in and of itself, and E continued, “Vince, why don’t you take the guys and go have some lunch. I think Mr. Gold and I need to discuss business. And, Emily, honey, turn off the intercom and the recording.” 

She glanced back before she could stop herself and he smiled. The other three left and the discussion that followed was long and very loud. Though she couldn’t really tell what was being said, because of the wall. 

Then Eric stepped outside, smiled at her again as he usually did and said goodbye before walking off. Ari walked out after him, looking thoughtful. “That bastard’s going to be a producer in no time,” he said and leveled a look at her. “Top ten list, you said?”   
  


Billy Walsh’s eyes leveled at E. “Who’s he?” he asked and Vince smiled. 

“E, my manager,” he said. 

Walsh’s eyebrows rose. “Looks like security with the money suit and all,” he snarked. 

“I carry too, but that’s just because I feel safer around weapons,” E said and lifted his gaze from the view off of the roof and smirked. “I’ll leave you two to chat. It’s a good script.” He walked off, speaking softly to one of Billy’s girls and then disappearing into the house. 

“What kind of manager is he?” Billy demanded and Vince shrugged. 

“The kind who knows what he’s doing. Don’t worry about it.” 

When he told E what Billy wanted to add later that night, E shrugged. “If he thinks it would be good. I’m reserving the rights to final cut.” Vince nodded and when Billy said it was all a scam, he thought he saw E’s eyes roll slightly. 

“Artists,” E drawled sarcastically that night when Vince asked about the eye roll. Vince didn’t ask what E said to Billy later to convince the director to give him final editing rights. Or how the gay stuff got weaved back in, but with way more context. 

On the day they finished filming, Vince celebrated with the cast, but his strongest feeling was that it was going to get him his first Oscar nomination. And only because E had been there, leading and coaching everything along. And, more importantly, being there for Vince in a way that he never, ever wanted to give up. 

When he got home, Vince went and found E, reading a script in the guest house. The entire guest house smelled like sauce and home and he didn’t interrupt, just settled on the couch next to E, kissed his cheek, and nestled against him. It took five minutes before E threw the script across the room and pushed him back into the lush cushions. 

“You want this?” he asked and Vince nodded because he’d never been so sure of anything and E proceeded to fuck his brains out. 

  
  
  


Vince was sucking E’s cock like a lollipop when Ari found them, slamming open the locked door to the Park City chalet’s master bedroom with a shoulder. E looked at him with an expression that made it clear that only reason the gun resting beside them on the nightstand hadn’t been used was because Ari was valuable. 

His hand stroked Vince’s head in a soothing manner, but the movie star didn’t even look up, his attention completely locked on his task and his hips grinding against the bed. 

“Spielberg wants him for Aquaman,” Ari said and E nodded. 

“I talked to Emily,” he said. Ari mentally registered that he needed to fire his assistant. “We’re celebrating. You need to get Spielberg on board to direct any sequels if you want Vince to sign for those though. I already had to tell that studio to fuck off if they wanted Queens Blouvard without my final editing rights.” Ari almost choked but then he cracked up and pulled a script out of his suit.

“How about refusal rights if he doesn’t like the director and a Ramones bio-pic?” he asked. E grinned. It was scary and positively shark-like. 

“I’ll read it. Now get the fuck out,” he ordered, attention back on Vince. Ari shut the door and left his tie hanging around the broken knob after a moment of thought. 

  
  
  
  


Shauna learned not to arrive unannounced after E shot her. 

The fact that he could get Vince to do whatever she wanted made up for the new bullet scar along her upper arm. And he’d sent the loveliest flowers to the hospital and covered the bills. 

But she was always careful to make an appointment now. Even if the cover of TMZ said Maf-E-a Don and showed a picture of E in his usual waistcoat and gun holster, standing over a sun-tanning, speedo-clad Vince, looking very intimidating. 

“TMZ?” he asked when she arrived for her appointment and found him in the kitchen, making a cream sauce. She rolled her eyes at the sauce and E chuckled. 

“Since we’re done shooting the Ramones, Vinny and I went a little overboard. I promised to cook for him,” he admitted. “He says hi.” 

Shauna tried not to think about a totally fucked out Vince upstairs and instead put a business card on the counter. “This is Jacobs at Vanity Fair. She likes your suits and agreed to do a profile of you. Talk to her and play this down and we’ll be ok.” 

It was nice she could trust him with this kind of thing and she wasn’t disappointed when the profile came out. He wore the fucking gun to the photo shoot and wore it with the various fancy suits that they pushed him into. _I just feel more comfortable with it. I’m not a big guy and where we grew up in Queens, it wasn’t a nice neighborhood. Besides, it’s my job to protect Vince._

_Mafia? Is that rumor still going around? Get into the pizza business in New York and everyone thinks you’re a gangster. Hell, I wish these motherfucking producers thought I was mafia. Then maybe I’d get a little more respect._ That quote was blocked on the page across from a picture of him screaming into his phone—probably at or pretending to be at Ari—and it worked. 

One of the shots was clearly taken off the cuff, E with his legs sprawled open to reveal a substantial package, hand in his hair as he gave the camera a little exasperated smirk. He looked fuckable and Shauna wasn’t sure how that was going to play. 

Apparently well enough that she started to get calls about setting him up with various models and actresses.

Vince had no chill at all about the increased interest in his manager. He ran off at least six girls at the next sponsorship event and spent most of the time wrapped around E in a booth, both drinking through the exceptional whiskey collection from the bar. She wasn’t sure how much longer they were going to be able to hide that the two were fucking on the regular, although she wasn’t sure if either of them wanted it public. 

But E preempted her worry. He set up a meeting, which ended up being lunch at their house with Vince, E, and Ari. “We don’t want to keep hiding this. My mom’s been bugging us about getting married whenever it gets legal,” E said over the radicchio salad.

Vince nodded. “I’ve got six movies lined up and most of them are Oscar bait where it might help and we double checked that there isn’t anything in the Aquaman contract,” he added. “I don’t care if all I get are indies from now on--that’s how I’m going to get an Oscar anyway.” 

Ari yelled a bit, but Shauna actually thought the timing might be ideal, all things considered. And said as much as Vince served a chicken piccata that would infuriate her dietician, but that tasted like ambrosia. 

Ari yelled more, but faced with their united opposition, started to get creative. 

After a few months, Vince’s next movie was an Alan Turing thing that had been bouncing around and Vince did the Vogue cover as his coming out. 

There was a paparazzi shot of him being kissed by E at the farmer’s market the next day. Then they were cute at Urth Caffe.

Vince won his Oscar in 2013 for the Imitation Game.

And it was a June wedding. 


End file.
